


What Happens in Vancouver...

by FromJupiterToMercury



Category: Bon Jovi (Band), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:54:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25088767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromJupiterToMercury/pseuds/FromJupiterToMercury
Summary: It’s summer 1986, and your brother Richie Sambora is about to fly to Vancouver to record its third album with his band. Following them there will sure hold surprises…
Relationships: Jon Bon Jovi/You
Comments: 27
Kudos: 7





	1. Wanted Dead or Alive

_I've been everywhere, still I'm standing tall  
I've seen a million faces and I've rocked them all  
_ _Cause I'm a cowboy_   
_On a steel horse, I ride_   
_I'm wanted dead or alive_

_New Jersey, July 1986_

You dropped your suitcase on the floor and breathed.

_Home sweet home._

“I’m here!”

You frowned and pricked up your ears. _No noise._ A bit weird, since it was Saturday 3pm. “Mom? Dad?” You walked down the hall and headed towards the kitchen.

On the counter, a white paper attracted your attention, tucked below a plate with two cookies on it. You smiled and grabbed the sheet.

_y/n,_

_We’re gone for the weekend,_

_we couldn’t make it otherwise. We’ll be there by_

_Sunday evening. Love you and we can’t_

_wait to finally see you!_

_Mom and Dad_

_PS: take care of your brother_

You smiled. It has always made you laugh how your parents always asked you to _take care_ of your three-years-older-than-you brother.

You grabbed the two cookies and bit in one as you came out of the kitchen, taking your suitcase while passing. You climbed the stairs without paying attention to the wood’s noises more than that and opened the first room to your left.

You emptied the content of your suitcase on your bed and put it near the stairs as you went out. You planted yourself in front of the room next to yours and took a deep breath. _Let’s fun begin._

You put the cookies in the back pocket of your jeans and raised your fists at the level of your head. All at once, you started tapping several times in a row quickly on the door, to make as much noise as possible. After doing it for some seconds, you violently opened the door and shouted: “Get up you lazy ass!”

Despite the advanced hour, the room was in complete darkness, the curtains still closed. You crossed the room in three steps to open them: the bright outside light of July flooded the little room, enlightening the walls full of posters of rockstars and models.

Your eyes shifted to the bed, where movements could be guessed under the sheets. “Richie, it’s 3pm, just- Oh.”

You put your hand on your mouth as you saw a blond-headed girl emerge from the bedsheets. You huffed. _For that either, nothing had changed._

The girl sat straight and put the sheets in front of her bare form; her change of position made your brother appear at her side. “Who are you?”

You raised your eyebrows. “ _Who_ are you? It’s my house here.”

As you spoke, Richie went on his elbow in a sudden movement and opened wide eyes: “y/n, for god’s sake, it’s you!” He turned to the girl and tapped her arm: “Hey, it’s my little sister!”

You put your hands on your hips: “Rich, it’s been three years that you didn’t see me and that’s how you greet me?”

He smiled and pushed the girl to the side to pass as he got up – making the girl wear a very upset face. Your hand flew on your eyes: “Fuck Rich- You’re naked-”

It didn’t prevent him to grab you in his arms though, and you let out shouts between disgust and happiness. He started to kiss your temples and cheeks: “Isn’t it my little sister who spent three years under the hot sun of California?”

You shrugged and tried to escape his _naked_ grip. “Your little sister who studied hard under the hot sun of California, yeah.”

From the corner of your eyes, you saw the girl look for her clothes and said: “Well, I let you…” You made gestures with your hands. He nodded and let you go. “Oh, take that.” You handed him a cookie. “Mom asked me to take care of you.”

You vaguely waved at the girl – you wouldn’t see her again anyway – and got out. You grabbed the suitcase and proceeded to go down when Richie passed his head by his door: “Is there something to eat?”

You raised your shoulders, not having opened the fridge for… Well for three years. He shrugged and pointed at your luggage: “Leaving already?”

“Oh shut up. I’m putting it in the basement.” He raised his thumb and disappeared in the room.

Once in the hall, you headed towards the basement door a little further in the corridor. You frowned before putting words on what you were hearing from below; muffled music. You shouted: “Rich, you let the radio on again!” You sighed, but smiled at the same time: usually, it would have pissed you off, but coming home and seeing your brother again put you in a good mood. You opened the basement and frowned. There was a pond near the house, the place has always been _very_ humid, giving the bricks a weird smell, and apparently nothing got fixed in three years.

The stairs were kinda intricated and your suitcase bumped into the wall several times, but the noise got muffled by the music. Your gaze was focused on the steps, the little window up in the wall lighting your way weakly. You were concentrated on trying not to trip in the stairs, and you didn’t notice that the music sounded clear and without lyrics, as if someone was playing it right there.

You arrived down the stairs, sighed and lifted your head – when you gasped.

Richie came at the door and asked you if you wanted anything to eat. You froze some seconds, and managed to say: “Richie, there is a man playing guitar in our basement.”

The music stopped as the man turned to you and let go of the chords. Old couches that you didn’t recognize had been put there around a huge box that was used as a table, judging from all the sheets on display on it.

The rays of the sun made his puffy blond hair look like a halo and he looked at you with wide blue eyes, seeming a bit surprised, as if you were the intruder in _your_ basement. You heard the steps crack upwards: “Jon! What are you doin’ here already, man? It’s early!”

He puffed: “Yeah, for you! We’ve got work to do, Rich.” He looked at your brother going down the stairs as he answered, but his gaze went back to you right after.

Richie came next to you, hands on his hips, only wearing a towel around his hips. You threw him a what-the-fuck look and he seemed to only get it now: “Oh, y/n, let me introduce you.” He grabbed you by the shoulders: “Remember, I told you I was in a band now.” You shrugged to the word _now_. You remembered well; a bit after you left, your brother had joined a band, and they had already made two albums and toured a lot. They had had their little success, which made you very proud of him of course, but you knew he wanted more and worked hard.

Well, if waking up at 3pm was considered working hard.

“This is Jon, the lead singer of the band. I talked to you about him.”

You nodded, seeing clearer now; indeed, he had told you the lead singer of the band’s name was Jon, plus you could roughly recognize him from the record’s covers your brother had sent you. But you had to admit; it’s only by seeing him in real life now rather than on a blurry record sleeve that you found him really cute. The guy stepped towards you and extended his hand, smiling. “Hi, I’m Jon.”

You grabbed his hand and said humorously: “Yeah, I heard that.” You shook hands. “And what did you do for my brother to lock you in our basement?”

He laughed and passed his hand in his hair. You squinted slightly as you thought you noticed his cheeks become pinker.

“Well, it’s the only quiet place we found to write. Rich gave me the keys of your house, so I could come here and basically, wake him up to work.”

You cocked an eyebrow and looked at your brother, the whole thing not surprising you the slightest. “But today I woke up pretty inspired to be honest, so I headed here directly. Plus yesterday we went out and if I remember well – he looked at Richie – you brought someone home, so I didn’t want to interfere.” He kept his smile on, and pointed at your suitcase, still in your hand: “So you’re coming back?”

You nodded. Richie tightened his grip on your shoulder: “Yes, my little sister that I love came back home!” You huffed and tried to escape his grip under Jon’s amused gaze.

“Well, I’ll let you alone, I don’t want to-”

You raised your hand and cut him: “No don’t worry, I have things to do here, plus you said you were inspired, so…” You nudged at your brother. “Work and don’t worry about me.”

He smiled to you and you managed to escape Richie to turn and head to the stairs. “Jon, wait for me two minutes, okay.” You heard him come behind you and follow you upstairs. You turned to him and threw him a questioning look; he put a hand at your back and led you in the kitchen. “Is everything al-”

“How do you find him?”

You froze some seconds, not being sure to get what he meant and felt your cheek heat a bit. You took back your composure and said as you cocked an eyebrow: “Well, you’ve always managed to hang around blondies with nice asses.”

He gasped: “Oh my god y/n, I meant as a person-”

You cut him with your hand: “Rich, I was kidding.” He raised eyebrows, but you didn’t pay attention to it. “How do you want me to have an opinion on him as I saw him for like… three minutes?”

He hummed as he acknowledged your fair point. You turned and opened the fridge.

“You should go and join him though, the poor guy has waited for you long enough don’t you think.” He nodded and turned, but turned back to you and grabbed you by the shoulders to kiss your temple before really leaving. You shrugged as you saw him disappear behind the door.


	2. Without Love

_She wasn't young, but still a child  
There still was innocence  
In painted smiles  
She called to me as I passed her by  
Lady of the night looked in my eyes_

You felt a cloth brush against the bare skin of your arms and your eyes opened slowly, to close them right away as the natural light blinded you. You heard a whispered “Shit” in the distance and stirred. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

You now opened your eyes and looked at him half bent above you, a blanket in his hands. “Jon?” You were about to say something when it got caught in your throat by a yawn. He nonetheless guessed what you were about to say: “Richie left to buy something some time ago now, so I went upstairs to wait, cause y’know, it’s a bit cold down there.” He pointed at the floor, meaning the basement.

You nodded and sat straight, scratching your eyes. As you remembered, you had sat in the couch to watch TV, but apparently tiredness took you.

You pointed at the blanket: “You should put it on your shoulders then.” He huffed and played with the cloth between his fingers. You tapped the place next to you on the couch to invite him to sit. “And don’t worry about Richie, he certainly bumped into the neighbour’s daughter, or something.” You had said that without meaning anything, but he answered quite seriously: “Well, I don’t think so.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

“They had a thing last summer and…” He made a face and raised his shoulders. You gasped: “No shit! He had always had a little crush on her…” You stopped and shrugged: “Well, if there isn’t a girl he hadn’t had a crush on yet in this town.”

Both of you laughed and a bit awkward silence fell.

“Hey.”

You turned – maybe a bit quickly – to him as he broke the silence: “Do you… Do you want to listen to one of our tracks?” You nodded and both of you got up to go to the basement.

A shiver ran down your spine as you went down the stairs: indeed, it was rather cold here despite the good weather outside. You saw him search for something in the mess next to the couch and finally took several tape recorders out. “We recorded two tracks for now – well, only demos. I’m not sure of one of them, but Richie likes it a lot.” You nodded as you sat cross-legged in the couch in front of him. He eyed the recorders and took one as he threw the others on the couch further. You shrugged as you saw _Basement demos_ written on tape on one of them.

“So, here is the one I think will be massive.” You smiled at his insurance and nodded again, curious to hear it. He pushed buttons and looked at you, biting his lips under excitement.

_Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame_

_Darling, you give love a bad name_

A heavy guitar sound started. The quality of the sound through the recorder was poor, but you couldn’t help but meet Jon’s gaze as the music carried on.

“Hey! Spoilers!”

Both of you turned to the stairs and Jon stopped the music. Richie went down the stairs, pizza boxes in his hands. Jon started to stutter as Richie has been serious in his remark when you grabbed his forearm. “Guys, it… Woaw.” Your opinion was aimed at both of them, but you were looking at Jon right now.

Richie didn’t notice the heavy eye contact you were sharing and dropped the boxes on the “table”.

“Thanks y/n. So, let’s eat, cause we’re going out tonight! You have people to meet.”

-

You were at the bar down the street for a solid two hours now and empty glasses were scattered everywhere on the table. You had bumped into a lot of people you hadn’t seen for so long that it took you twenty minutes to reach for a free table without anyone to stop you. In the end, the only people you didn’t know were Jon – in a way – and David, the keyboardist of your brother’s band. You were currently tucked between both of them on a bench, Richie in front of you on a chair.

He squinted, his eyes alternating between the three of you.

“Listen… If I punch myself in the face, and it hurts… Am I weak or strong?”

David scoffed: “Weak.”

Jon bent to look at him past you: “No! I would say strong.”

“Stupid. That’s what you are.”

You cocked an eyebrow and threw Richie a look. He opened wide eyes, offended.

“It’s been three years that we haven’t seen each other and you talk to me like that?”

You laughed and extended your arm to ruffle his hair: “But you know I love you, Rich-Rich.”

He slapped your hand and frowned, but couldn’t hide a little smile: “Rho shut up, would you.”

“You know Rich, I’m pretty astonished you’re still there sitting with us… And not hunting a prey.”

“Well y/n, the thing is; I’m a snack, but no one is hungry…” He squinted: “…for now.”

The four of you laughed, pushed a bit by your beverages.

At your side, Jon cleared his throat at a moment to get your attention: “It was not too hard to leave from here? I mean, your friends…” He glanced at you. “…boyfriend…”

Richie let go of his straw and huffed. “Hey, if you had a boyfriend, you would have told me, uh?” There was a taint of fear in his voice that made you puff: “Yeah, of course Rich.”

Your brother nodded and looked at Jon: “So I would have beaten his ass off, cause no one…” He stopped and squinted again, taking the best threatening look he could: “No one touches my little sister.” He planted his gaze in Jon’s – who gulped – , yours, David’s and emptied his glass in one trait.

You laughed; your brother had always said that joking, but the alcohol made his speech sound so dramatic and serious it looked comical.

“That’s lame you’ll get separated for some days right after you came back.” You turned to David and frowned, not understanding. He seized your confusion and added: “After tomorrow we leave for Vancouver to record the rest of our album.” Your heart sank in your chest as you heard that. You had just come home, and you’ll be separated again.

“Come with us!”

You turned to Jon and blinked.

“I don’t know what the hotel will look like, but you could share your brother’s room, or…” He let his sentence die and turned to David, to find support. The one nodded, not seeing any disadvantage. “It’s okay if you come with us in studio, one person more, it won’t change anything.”

You turned to your brother so see his reaction, but he looked like he didn’t hear anything of your conversation and was eyeing something further on the dance floor; certainly a _blond_ something. You turned back to Jon, him looking at you expectantly. “I would be so glad guys, but don’t want to bother you-”

“You won’t!”

He had answered that a bit quickly, making David look at him, who added: “I’m sure Doc will agree. Oh, it’s our manager.” You shrugged and raised your glass: “Well… To Vancouver then!”


	3. Let It Rock

_Let it rock, let it go  
You can't stop a fire burning out of control  
Let it rock, let it go  
With the night you're on the loose  
You got to let it rock_

The lot of you were chatting loudly, the noise of your suitcases rolling behind you. Richie bragged, looking at the people around you in the airport: “If only they knew who we’re going to become after this album!”

You rolled your eyes and puffed, but hadn’t the time to answer when David yelled: “Hey Doc! We’re here!”

You extended your neck and saw a man looking like what you could guess a manager looked like approach towards you.

The man was shorter than the guys, but he radiated something that annihilated all want to argue with him. He had a severe resting face and he squinted when he spotted you between Richie and Jon, what made you instinctively settle back. Your brother caught you by the shoulders: “Doc, let me introduce you my sister! Don’t worry, she won’t-”

“You know there are only three rooms?”

Richie blinked after being cut, but his good mood didn’t flinch: “It’s okay, we’ll sleep in the same room. Her name is-”

He snapped: “We’re a bit late, let’s go.”

You cocked an eyebrow at your brother and he raised shoulders. You had said you didn’t want to bother, but the manager made you exactly feel that way. Jon nudged at you and said discretely: “Don’t worry.” He gave you a cheerful smile, but nothing else comforting seemed to come.

Half an hour later, you were on the plane and the tiredness of your short night quickly took you back. The haze of climbing for the first time in a private plane had fallen, and Richie, in front of you, was chin in the palm of his hand. His eyelids were heavy, and his arm supporting him threatened to give him up at any moment. He blinked sleepily and said, words escaping his mouth painfully: “God… Where are my sunglasses?”

You quickly eyed the glasses on his head before closing your eyes too: “I want twenty dollars if I find them back.”

He didn’t have time to answer before his head fell on the table in a loud thud, not disturbed by Jon huffing, exactly at the same moment that David let a loud snore out.

Soon, the only sounds in the jet were Doc turning the pages of his newspaper and David and Richie’s steady breathing.

“Hey, look what I’ve got.”

You lowered your gaze and watched Jon take two bottles of Coke out of his bag between his legs. He looked at you with a pride you didn’t get, and you scoffed.

“Coke? You’re such a rebel, Jon. Love it.”

He rolled his eyes: “Doc didn’t want us to take food or beverages in, because he was afraid we would spill something and put crumbles everywhere.”

He glanced quickly at the manager, still back at you and deep in his readings.

You took a bottle and eyed him; he put his against the little table and yanked it to open it… But what has to happen happened.

With the pressure and movements of the bottles in his bag, gas just escaped the bottle in a huge moss, partly on the table and above all on Jon’s lap, the seat and the carpeted floor. The noise it made didn’t wake David or Richie, but Doc heard it above the plane’s ambient noise and at the same moment you got up, jumped above Jon’s legs and coughed loudly. The manager frowned and eyed your form, luckily spotless.

“I’m… going to the toilet.”

“Hmm.”

He turned back, you too and walked towards the cabinet at the end of the plane. You opened the door and jumped when you felt someone behind you. “I managed to clean the leather seat, but my pants!”

You couldn’t repress a laugh; his pants were all stained.

“I believe Doc was right. You cannot handle yourself.”

He sighed and looked at him in the mirror. “How will I clean this?”

“I think the question is; how will you walk in society with a huge brown spot on your crotch?”

Both of you laughed, and he pointed at the toilet paper: “Let’s try with this.”

You knew he didn’t mean it, but you said, grinning: “You’re not expecting me to do it, right?”

His breath got caught in his throat and he stuttered: “N-no, I-”

You nudged at him: “Hey, I was kidding. Let me make the water get hot.”

During the next five minutes, Jon desperately tried to clean the Coke spot, but it only faded a bit. When you went back in the aisle, Doc was still reading the newspaper – that you assumed it was the third time he was browsing since the begin of the flight. Even though you were next to the window, Jon sat the first so you had to lift your leg to pass above him, but… that was the exact moment turbulence chose to make the plane jump, what made you lose your balance and fall straddling his lap.

Your eyes widened, and heat took your cheeks. He drew a breath, and three seconds passed where none of you moved, gauging each other. Suddenly, a beeping noise rang, signal of the following landing.

“Buckle up!”

Doc had yelled, luckily not turning back and you pushed on your foot to fall back in your seat, helped by Jon.

Richie hummed and stirred, awakened by the manager, but David only opened his eyes once the wheels touched the concrete.

You felt your cheeks still being pink, and did your best to not look at Jon.

The hot wind changed your mind when you all got out and hopped in a taxi.

“The place isn’t far. I’m not coming with you, cause I’m staying in the city centre.”

Doc giving the taximan instructions and tapping on the door gave the energy of a dad sending his children in a holiday camp.

“See you in the studio later and… don’t make mistakes.”

Richie threw a “See you Doc!”, but his surexcited expression didn’t comfort him at all.

The start of the ride happened in a tired silence too, letting your thoughts go while watching outside the window.

You were still in the city-centre, but the skyscrapers let place to smaller buildings and houses with gardens. The taxi turned a street and stopped. Richie opened the door and you got out in a huff, extending your tired legs.

You lifted your head and blinked when you eyed the building; it wasn’t a hotel like you think it would have been: the façade was in light-pink plaster, and the balconies in white paint were awfully dirtied in grey. Grass was in front of the entry and plastic flamingos were planted here and there.

You threw a look at your brother.

David didn’t let you time to admire the building and pressed you to grab your luggage and enter. There wasn’t enough room in the little elevator for the whole of you, so you decided to put every bag in it and climb to the first floor.

When Jon opened the door, the four of you huffed and David scoffed: “God, who’s grandmother died in there?”

“Probably a grandmother kind enough to lend it at a low price.”

You jumped in the living room and went to open every window and the balcony. By opening the curtains, the light aimed directly at the bleached flowered couch.

Richie turned and clapped in his hands: “I propose we discover our rooms!” You took your bag and followed him towards the only room that had a double bed. Once again the first thing you did was to open the window to make air enter, thing that probably didn’t happen for a long time following the smell.

The bed squeaked loudly when Richie sat on it, but everything looked correct.

You turned to him: “You know, thank you to welcome me here.”

You sat next to him and he took you by the shoulders. You lifted your head to look at him into the eyes: “You’re sure I won’t be…” You eyed the double bed. “…a brake?”

He puffed: “Don’t be silly! I think we won’t even be aware of the state we’ll be in when we’ll come back here!” That wasn’t really a way to reassure you, but he didn’t pay attention to it as he eyed his watch.

“Maybe we could already… go out after we unpack.”

He threw you a mischievous grin.

“Ready to party?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one:  
> Richie: Ready to party?


	4. Livin' On a Prayer

_We've got to hold on to what we've got  
It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not  
We've got each other and that's a lot for love  
We'll give it a shot_

You were sipping your drink when you heard a “fuck” at your side. You looked at Richie, then followed his gaze: the bar you were in had several poles in the room, and it looked like a show had started; you could see women in the dim light on it just under the ceiling.

Music started as they let themselves slide down slowly while removing their clothes little by little. You turned to your friends; all of you were on a bench around a table, so you could see everyone’s face, and directly blamed yourself for not having your camera on your right now.

The five of them were mouth opened, heads following the women’s descent. You laughed and looked back.

They had now reached the floor, completely naked, and were heading to little showers installed on the sides. They grabbed sponges and started rubbing themselves with it, soap mossing on their skin.

“Slippery when wet!”

You turned to the guys, but didn’t get who said it.

You were in a strip club. _Yeah, a strip-club._ When Richie had burst in the living room saying he had found something to do tonight, you were expecting to assist to a lot of things, and damn you were served. Awkward at first, the whole thing was a lot funnier after spending hours there – and after a lot of glasses.

“Guys!”

David and you turned to Jon, as Richie kept his gaze on stripers. “Guys, I’ve found it.”

You raised an eyebrow and took your glass. “Found what? Your sexual orientation?”

“The title of the album.”

You squinted and sucked the end of your cocktail through the straw, creating a noise. “Slippery when wet.” He was looking at both of you, eyes wide opened, as he had received a revelation.

“This is a nice reference to the Highway Code Jon, I love it.”

You tapped his arm and got up to get a refill.

You were passing in front of tables when you felt someone grab your arm. You turned; a man was grinning, scanning your body. He raised his hand, a billet tugged between two fingers. “This is yours if you remove your top.”

You threw him a dark look and proceeded to the bar.

“So? You enjoy yourself?”

Thinking it was another stupid man coming behind you in the queue, you turned, eyebrows furrowed and prepared yourself to attack; coming face to face with a clueless Jon.

“Okay, apparently not.”

Your traits softened.

“Sorry. I thought it was…” You made a hand gesture towards the room. “…not you.”

He shrugged. “You know, I don’t know if we should have come here to party. It’s not very amusing.” He passed a hand in his hair, and you grinned; he didn’t say it, but you guessed the “ _For you._ ” at the end of his sentence.

“Oh, don’t tell me _you_ don’t find this amusing.”

He blinked and started to stutter when you laughed: “It’s fun. Even for me, don’t worry. Well, I, of course, need a glass to. But it’s nice.”

Well, ‘ _A_ glass’ was an understatement; it had been a lot more since the start of the evening. You turned back when it was your turn to order and opened your mouth, but Jon pressed your arm.

“Wait. Don’t you want to go somewhere else?”

You cocked an eyebrow. “What? You know a better place where showers are hotter?”

He scoffed, but the barman cleared his throat to call you back.

You eyed the room.

The others didn’t need you – _at all_ – and maybe wouldn’t even notice your absence.

“All right. Lead me.”

You quickly made your way out of the bar and started walking. The fresh soothed you, but the landscape moved awkwardly around you when you turned your head too fast.

At your side, you heard him dig in his pocket and get a set of keys out.

“Wait… You want to get back to the apartment?”

“No, I just want to show you something. And you’ll be the first to see it!”

You squinted, but excitement took you.

“I don’t think Doc would agree about us going there now.”

“Hey, I already told you I was in, you don’t need other arguments.”

Both of you laughed, and you got it when you stopped in front of a recording studio.

“You mean you have the keys of the studio?”

It seemed weird a man like Doc McGhee would give any responsibility whatsoever to people he didn’t estimate trustful – and seen how he treated the boys, it was hard to think he esteemed them enough to lend them this set of keys and all its value.

“Well, we’re supposed to come at the studio before him tomorrow afternoon, and apparently I might be the one he trusts the most in the band.” he said, unlocking the front door after missing to put the key in the lock three times in a row on the background of you giggling.

“Indeed.”

He made you enter and you added: “To be honest I wouldn’t give anything that comports keys you shouldn’t lose to Rich either.”

He scoffed and you followed the corridor, went down the stairs and unlocked their assigned recording booth, all of that not switching any light on before the door of the room was closed.

A drum kit was already assembled, and a guitar and a bass were peacefully waiting against the wall. You picked the electric one and while you were plugging it, you said: “What are you planning to do tomorrow? Is it the bit I heard a demo of?”

“No, it will be the one we struggle with. I mean, we have the lyrics and all, but we don’t manage to find a good intro and instrumental.”

You turned; during a second, he seemed saddened.

“Is Doc pissing you off with this?”

He simply nodded.

“You know, I’m starting to not like that man.”

This at least made him smile: “Only starting?”

You puffed: “I mean, he only sees you as money machines. I know it’s basically his job, but… Well, I don’t like him.”

He laughed again and said: “He promised he would make us become rockstars.”

“Okay, then, once it’s done, ditch him.”

You looked at each other in the eyes and exploded.

“You’re a serious businesswoman, y/n.”

“Right?”

“And who would we take as our manager then?”

“Well, isn’t it logical?”

He frowned, and you moved your hair back in an exaggerated movement of the hand, feigning an arrogant expression. “Me.”

He laughed, and you took the floating moment to hop on a table. “Well, thinking about it, I don’t know how I’d feel about working with my brother… Anyway, this song. What is this about?”

“Oh, the one we struggle with? It’s called _Wanted Dead or Alive_ , and we thought it could be the album’s title too.”

You grinned: “Oh, I thought you had had a revelation earlier about a better title.”

He bit his lip and his cheeks took a light pink tone.

You thought out loud: “ _Wanted Dead or Alive_. It looked like I’m seeing a poster of your face pinned in a cowboy village saying that anyone who would find you back would be rewarded.”

He opened wide eyes: “Exactly! You know, I’ve been wondering… A far-west atmosphere and all.”

You mindlessly started to play something, the riff echoing in the room.

Jon approached: “Hey, you don’t play bad!”

You shrugged: “Thanks. Hey, it’s not because my brother was the first to pick our uncle’s guitar that I cannot play.” You smiled. “But nothing to see with his talent, of course.”

You carried on playing some accords you knew out of nowhere, the electric noises filling the empty booth. The carpeted walls made you feel like you were in a cocoon, and when you lifted your head as the last string you pulled vibrated below your pad, your eyes met Jon's. Your faces were strangely close, even if he was standing, and you sitting.

His lips parted, like if he was about to say something, or about to take a breath before doing something, but a loud thud resonated above your heads. You drew a breath and whispered, after a second: “You locked the front door after us, did you?”

…


	5. Raise Your Hands

_We're in a sticky situation - it's down to me and you  
So tell me - is it true  
They say there ain't nobody better  
Well now that we're together  
Show me what you can do  
You're under the gun  
Out on the run  
Going to set the night on fire_

…

He opened his mouth to say something, but a loud thud resonated above your heads. You drew a breath and whispered: “You locked the front door after us, did you?”

His wide eyes and absence of answer answered your question in a way, and in two seconds, you jumped off the table and switched off the light. You grabbed his hand and silently climbed the stairs.

Once on the ground floor, you spotted light into a room further down the corridor and managed to get out without being noticed. To be sure, you ran a bit into the city in silence, till Jon said: “Certainly a janitor or something.”

You caught back your breath.

“Yeah, certainly.”

You drew a deep breath: “Jeez, I cannot run two minutes without breathing like my old aunt Mary.” You put your hand in front of your mouth and breathed. “I even smell like my old aunt Mary. Well, more like the closet where she keeps her alcohol…”

Jon shrugged: “If it’s _the_ old aunt Mary Richie talked about, I pray for you.”

You laughed and let yourself fall on a stone bench, Jon sitting next to you.

People were passing, chatting and laughing, sometimes a little too loud to be in their normal state.

Jon broke the silence: “I wonder if the others are still alive out there.”

You turned your face and planted your eyes in his: “To be honest I’m not really thinking about the others right now.”

He said, in a voice a little higher: “Oh yeah?”

You puffed: “I’m having fun tonight. I hesitated to come with you because I thought you would do your thing together and I would be left aside.”

You nudged at him.

“Thank you.”

You could tell he was shyly touched, but he quickly went back to himself: “And the craziness is not done!”

You cocked an eyebrow: “Ow, and what do you have in mind, Mister Bon Jovi?”

The silence you assumed had fallen because he was thinking became thick. You only noticed now your faces were really close, for the second time of the night. Your eyes studied his face, and you forced yourself to not spend too much time on his lips. When you looked back at his eyes, you noticed his pupils were dilated, his irises only two blue circles, but enough for you to get drown in them for you don’t know how much time. A signboard enlightening you suddenly changed colours and a purple light enveloped both of you.

He turned his face as his attention got dragged by it, but you didn’t move.

He turned back to you and whispered: “You know, I would marry you if you asked.”

The information took some seconds to reach for your foggy brain, and you blinked: “W-what?”

“He said he would marry you if you asked.”

Both of you jumped; Jon stumbled and fell off the bench, catching himself back with his elbow to not crash on the ground and you turned all at once to see where the voice came from.

Next to you was sitting a man who wasn’t there five minutes ago, legs crossed, smoking a cigarette and looking at both of you alternatively. You recognized he was dressed as Elvis Presley. He even had the wig, and red aviator sunglasses that made an awful result next to the purple hem of the pants and sleeves of his costume – and you wondered what he was able to see in the dim light of the night.

He raised eyebrows that were now high above the glasses and opened his arms, like if he was waiting for an answer.

“So? You get married or what? You’re cute, I can make you a good price.”

He crushed his cigarette on the rough material of the bench and pointed across the street: “I own this chapel.”

You followed his gesture; the sudden light made you squint, but you guessed something that looked like a candle made of red neon lights, and something written in purple lights below, but you soon gave up to try to read the name of the chapel.

You turned to Jon; he was already looking at you.

And then, the very first thing you thought about at that moment was: “But… We don’t have rings.”

Your eyes widened at your own remark, and Elvis scoffed: “Oh, you don’t need that. Or you can buy those later.” He got up. “So? Follow me.”

In stupefying accordance, both of you answered: "Oh, okay." at the same time.

You helped Jon getting up and started to walk. While you crossed the street, you felt his hand brush against yours. It was like you were evolving in an alternative world where everything felt great and without consequence; so much that you flicked your wrist and took Jon’s hand in yours.

The man opened the double doors: “I propose we directly go? You can pay tomorrow morning.” He turned and he said: “There are rooms above.” as he pointed the first floor through the ceiling.

It was like he had been waiting for you the whole evening; down the aisle, a bible was opened, and a paper with a pen next to it was waiting to be filled.

A smile spread on his face and he cleared his throat: “You can take each other’s hands.”

You faced each other and after a second, you tied your fingers together. He smiled and you felt your muscles of your cheek extend in a stupid smile.

Elvis looked at Jon: “So, Mister…”

He didn’t detach his eyes from you.

“Bongiovi.”

“Mister Bongiovi, please say some words and say if you would take… Hum… Miss?”

You didn’t turn your face either: “Sambora.”

“Miss Sambora, as wife.”

He directly opened his mouth: “y/n. I know that what we’re doing can be qualified by a lot of words. And it’s crazy. But this day, when I saw you…” He gulped and you felt his fingers tightening. “…that makes me want to marry you in a chapel in the middle of Vancouver at 3 in the morning.”

Both of you shrugged.

You drew a breath.

“Miss Sambora, your turn.”

“Well… I want to say something first. Jon, you must know I’ve never heard any of the songs you wrote previously. Richie had sent me both of your albums, but they’re certainly still in my luggage.” He laughed and you shrugged: “I’m sorry! I’m sure it’s great though. Now, more seriously. I…”

But you didn’t know how to be more serious in what you would say. Two seconds passed, and you pulled him towards you by his hands you were still holding. You let go of one to tangle it in his hair, going on your tiptoes. Still without a word, you tilted your head to the side and pressed your lips against his. His second hand let go of yours and he grabbed your head, deepening the kiss.

“Hum, children, wait I have to ask you _the_ question…”

He lowered his hands flat on your back to press you into him and you circled his neck with your arms.

Elvis cleared his throat, but nothing could separate you right now. You were melting into each other, and Jon didn’t react when the guy put his hands on his back to push him towards a door.

“Right, right, I got it, well, I declare you married, but please don’t do anything here in the middle of the aisle…”

You obliged to move, the man shoving a key with a 34 written in your hand.

He quickly asked, taking the opportunity of your months being available to answer again: "Can I at least know where to send-"

"Uh, Doc McGhee?"

It was the first name to come to you, plus seeing his face when he will open vows would be priceless, you were sure.

And you didn't want to think about anybody else right now.

The man nodded, but didn't have time to answer anything when Jon grabbed your hand.

You lost no time escaping towards the stairs with him and Elvis shouted: “Oh, and breakfast is not counted in the price of the room!” right when the door closed behind you.


	6. Never Say Goodbye

_We danced so close  
We danced so slow  
And I swore I'd never let you go  
Together - forever_

You frowned and lifted your hand to scratch your nose without opening your eyes. Your eyelids were heavy, and you took time to emerge. It was hot in the room you were in, and it nearly rocked you back to sleep.

But the heat started to oppress you, and you took a deep breath. That’s only at that moment that you acknowledged something else was oppressing you; there was a weight on your chest. You hummed, still half asleep and lifted your hand again to scratch your chin; what was tickling you like that?

You opened your eyes and lowered your head.

Hair.

That was hair tickling your chin.

From where you were, all you saw was a massive bunch of blond hair.

And no need to think long to get who they belonged to.

The weight you felt was Jon’s head, still deeply asleep on your – naked – chest.

You eyed the room; where the hell were you? Certainly not in the flat of the city centre. You didn’t know if you were relieved or not, but at least Richie wasn’t going to burst from a minute to another. The thing was: where were you? Not being alone was good, but… What happened? The last thing you remembered was going to a strip-club with the boys; and after, everything was blurry and thinking made you feel like your brain would burst.

You suddenly felt him move and yawn. It was like you heard him doing the same scheme as you in his head; and when he shifted to the side, you took the opportunity to sit straight against the headboard, and he sat further too, blinking between scratching his still sleepy eyes. You dragged the sheet in front of you and he did the same; which would have been quite comical if you weren’t in that situation.

He was the first to talk: “W-Where are we?”

You felt your cheeks redden and experienced the heat of the room even more.

“I don’t know… I don’t remember anything after… Did we go to a studio or something? Shit. And you?”

He shook his head no, and you took your head in your hands; “Shit, what the hell did we drink? Or take?”

Your questions stayed unanswered as someone suddenly knocked at the door. Well, more attempted to break it down, since the violence it was done with.

“Time to pay!”

You opened wide eyes to Jon.

“I know you’re here! Mister… Bongiovi!”

In a movement, both of you got up and went to look for your clothes, carefully avoiding looking at your bare bodies. You quickly put on your underwear, but…

“Shit. Where’s my t-shirt? I can’t find it.”

“Take mine.”

He threw you his.

The man knocked again: “I said I know you’re there. Madam Bongiovi!”

You stopped and huffed, throwing Jon a _“What the hell?”_ look.

Once you were done – well, you in Jon’s t-shirt only that reached just above your knees and Jon in his jeans and bare chest – you stepped towards the door mechanically, but…

“The window!”

You couldn’t say where you slept in, but you could tell you weren’t high above the ground. You were right; by looking at the window, only two metres separated you from the street.

You motioned Jon to go first, but didn’t wait for him to answer to open the window and press him to it.

You suddenly heard key noises and the man speaking: “I advert you, I’m going to enter!”

When you turned, Jon had passed his legs by the edge and hopped on the ground. You then sat on the windowsill and steadied yourself to jump, but the key turning in the lock made you shudder and you lost balance; next moment you opened your eyes, you were into Jon’s arms.

“You’re alright?”

Your hand mechanically clamped on his torso but you hummed and blamed your reddening cheeks on the hot sun of July on your face.

“Oh, hum, yes.”

“Hey!”

The man had apparently gotten what you did and was aiming at the window; you jumped from Jon and grabbed his hand: “Let’s go!”

You started to run straight ahead, not looking back, trying to busy your minds on the run to not think about what certainly happened this night.

People turned on your path, certainly due to your outfits, but you only stopped when you had joined the main street and recognized where you were. In five more minutes, you finally reached for the flat, but you put a hand on Jon’s torso to stop him. In silence, you put your ear against the door.

“I don’t think anyone’s home, it’s silent…”

Jon blinked: “I wonder where they are… The studio’s closed today.”

He then put the key in the lock carefully and turned.

“Where were you??”

David jumped in front of you and opened wide, kind of worried eyes – but didn’t seem to be embarrassed by your _outfits_. “Richie has drunk a weird thing tonight and has been sick all night long. I dragged him to the apartment and he spent hours throwing up in the bathroom.” He cocked an eyebrow at you: “But he got aware both of you missed. I tried to calm him down and not upset the whole city to find you back.” He looked back at Jon: “And break your nose.”

Jon huffed and you tried: “How… What tells you we were together?”

David opened his mouth but got interrupted by a sharp knock at the door.

As you were still in front of it, he just had to extend his hand to open on Doc McGhee, apparently pissed, judging from the red colouration if his cheeks. He lost no time saying: “All of you. Sit.”

Even if you weren’t directly linked to the manager, you weirdly felt like he was talking to you too and went to sit next to Jon on the couch.

He went on front of you three, hands on his hips.

He spat out: “Where is Sambora?”

David scoffed, not impressed by his tone: “Sick. Sleeping, or maybe head in the toilet.”

The manager hummed, but a certain annoyance staying on his face made you think he wasn’t there for Richie and his stomach. He said, on a tone of a professor grounding students: “I thought I had been clear. The money Mercury gave us cannot be spent for anything not related to the production of this album!”

His eyes were piercing the three of you, looking for the guilty.

But you exchanged clueless looks, and you spoke: “Doc, when we went out yesterday, we paid with our money.”

Money of the record company could only be spent by bills, and you remembered everyone paid with cash. You looked at the others for support and both nodded vigorously.

But McGhee didn’t relax; he pinched his lips and straightened himself, his hand flying in his pocket. He ruffled a bit and got a bill out, a bit wrinkled, that he furiously handled to David.

“Right. Then why _this_ came to me this morning?”

The keyboardist frowned and read it; his eyebrows fell and his mouth fell open little by little. He then slowly turned to you and extended his arm to give you the paper, Jon looking by your shoulder.

Your turn to frown and take the ticket.

The rectangle had a white background, and pink ribbons decorated the sides and corners; on the top, a white dove holding two golden rings was drown in a delicate trait. Words were printed, and blanks filled in a trembling writing;

_The perks of Las Vegas in the middle of Vancouver!_

_RedCandle Wedding Chapel_

_(Open every day till five a.m_ _or weddings, but possibility to stay for the night)_

_Happily married Mister_ **John Bongiovi**

_And Miss_ **y/n Sambora-Bongiovi**

_On the_ **19th of July 1986**

_By_ **Levis P.**


	7. Wild In The Streets

_Sometimes this town ain't pretty  
But you know it ain't so bad  
Just like a girl who looks so happy  
When inside she's so so sad  
In here we got this code of honor  
Nobody's going down  
_[ _You don't walk in vain  
Trough the kid's parade  
Because this is my hometown_](https://genius.com/Bon-jovi-wild-in-the-streets-lyrics#note-16907885) __  
We were wild  
Wild in the street

You couldn’t manage to look at Jon in the eyes; neither did he.

The band was on the other side of the glass separating the booth where you had been not even 24 hours ago from the mixing table. Only Doc, an engineer and you were in the room. Right after you had read the paper, Richie had burst into the living room and you had shoved it in your pocket. Your brother’s state dragged Doc’s attention somewhere else in the apartment, as he had insisted on everyone to be able to record. Richie assured he was fine – even though he was the same colour as the porcelain sink – and all of you left together.

You don’t know for how much time you were there, but at a moment Richie passed his head by the door: “Hey Doc, can we have a pause?”

The manager nodded.

“Not more than 10 minutes!”

Richie smiled, followed by the others out of the room – except Jon, still in the booth. All at once, like you were driven despite yourself, you got up from the couch and entered it, closing the door. Jon raised eyebrows as he saw you, but before saying anything, you tapped on the mic to see if it was still on, but apparently Doc couldn’t hear you anymore.

“Jon, I think we need to talk.”

He came to you, but didn’t say anything.

“About this night.”

He drew a breath: “Yeah, that was something, uh.”

“Yeah…”

You couldn’t stop thinking about what you remembered Jon had said last night, some things that had come back to you. It tightened your heart; so did the fact that he was drunk when he said it.

“You know Jon, I don’t think it was… _wise._ ”

He blinked. “What?”

“We weren’t in our normal state, I mean.”

An unreadable expression passed on his face; you would have expected him to say you were right, or even, maybe, wrong – but he didn’t say anything. Two minutes passed, the silence was interrupted by a little ring and Doc’s distorted voice through the mic: “Children, class dismissed for today. We have tech problems, so unable to record anymore. But don’t worry, nothing had been lost.”

You turned your head to see the boys had come back into the room. Your brother passed his head by the door: “Hey, everything’s alright?”

None of you answered, but it didn’t prevent him to say: “I think it’s party o’clock!”

-

“I think I’ll… Oops.”

Richie stumbled while getting up, David sorting loudly.

“Richie, I don’t think you should-”

“Hey y/n, let’s get fun okay…”

You gave up, knowing he wouldn’t hear it. You watched your brother take three long minutes to manage to get up and disappear into the crowd of the bar.

Next to you, David’s eyes got lost in the vague, leaving both Jon and you in a complete silence. Well, not to change; David and Richie were the one making the conversation till now, punctuated by Jon nodding to what they said an you humming from time to time. David didn’t try to know further and Richie didn’t ask why you looked upset, even though you suspected he noticed your humour. Anyway, he didn’t link it with Jon’s mutism and soon cocktails made him think about something else.

You glanced at Jon at your side and noticed that like you, he hadn’t touched his drink.

You wanted to talk with him so bad.

But what to say?

You drew a breath, wanting to break the silence more than anything when David jumped:

“Wait… Where’s Richie?”

“He went to grab a drink, David.”

The keyboardist suddenly looked scared, which would have made you laugh in another situation. “But he’s gone for a while now!”

You sighed: “I don’ know Dave… Certainly further on the dancefloor, sucking a girl’s fa-”

“Hum, excuse me.”

The three of you turned to a barman, now in front of your table. His face was between amusement and worry.

“I think your friend is going to have problems. He’s outside, and… Well, you should go there.”

You rushed out and stopped in your tracks; Richie was further in the middle of the street, his shirt twisted in his hand like a whip, moving it in the air like he was chasing mosquitos. He was shouting nonsense at people passing, a bottle of vodka half-empty in his other hand.

“Richie!”

When he saw you, his face passed by surprise, joy, sadness and anger at a worrying speed and he shouted: “We’re surrounded!”

You walked to him, the two others too but they stayed slightly in retreat. Your brother caught your wrist, brought you close to his face and repeated in a whisper: “y/n, we’re surrounded.”

His breath stank alcohol and you couldn’t repress a grimace, nearly feeling the percentage of alcohol in your body raise by inhaling it only.

“Richie, what the-”

“Look at those people, y/n!” He pointed at a passing couple. “You’ll never guess…”

He planted his brown worried eyes in yours: “You’ll never guess where they come from…”

You blinked, and didn’t notice Jon and David coming closer, curious.

“They’re _Canadians_.”

Three seconds passed.

“What?”

“Yes! y/n, for god’s sake, they’re Canadians!” He thew his shirt towards the spot the couple had occupied thirty seconds earlier.

“Of course they’re Canadians, Richie, we’re in-”

He let go of you and put his hand at the side of his mouth like an amplifier and shouted, his voice resonating into the quite empty street: “YOU WILL NEVER MANAGE TO ESTABLISH YOURSELVES IN OUR COUNTRY TO RAPE OUR HOUSES AND BURN OUR WIVES! GO HOME-”

Your eyes widened and you jumped to clamp your hand on his mouth but he moved fast to his left and grabbed Jon by the collar, letting the bottle of vodka fall on the concrete and explode, splashing the end of your pants: “Man, they are going to steal our album, why did we come here? God, _why_?” He started to shake Jon so hard he turned a bit too white, the contain of his stomach not quite supporting the movements. You grabbed your brother by one of his pants’ loop and pulled, but what made him stop by dragging his attention away was the noise of a car’s door clapping.

You turned slowly and sighed; a policeman was walking towards the lot of you, gauging your forms. His eyes passed by the broken bottle of vodka, the puddle David was standing in, the hem of your pants, and a dishevelled, eyes wide opened like an owl and shirtless Richie still holding Jon by the collar, this one a hand on his mouth, the other on his stomach and eyes closed to concentrate on not vomiting on his friend.

“I see we have a lot of fun?”

“Sir, I’m sorry, my brother drank a bit too much-”

“I see that. What I see too is that several homes called for disturbance. Plus, you cannot stand here.”

He pointed at a board you hadn’t seen before; in the heat of the action, you had moved a bit further in the street and were actually standing close to road works, place you weren’t supposed to be on.

“So, a little tour at the station is necessary, I think?”

You exchanged a look with David. You didn’t see what you could say; the scene was talking for itself, plus even though you were okay right now, you’re sure you had a little too much of alcohol in your blood to try to argue.


	8. I'd Die For You

_If you could see inside my heart  
Then you would understand  
I'd never mean to hurt you  
Baby I'm not that kind of man_

The four of you were sitting on rolling chairs in an office, at the police station. Richie’s head had fallen on David’s shoulder next to him, the glass of water in his hand threatening to fall at any moment. Jon was between you and the keyboardist, arms crossed, eyes darted on his shoes. You were not that anxious; just maybe about Doc’s reaction when he’ll get aware of this.

David put his hand on his stomach and grimaced: “I regret this so much.”

Jon hummed: “Ha, regret.” He turned to you: “Wanna talk about it?”

You blinked, speechless in front of his pettiness but quickly took back your composure: “Excuse me?”

The scene was pathetic: none of you was looking at each other, talking to the wall like you were angry at it. You didn’t let him talk: “ _You_ are the one who got this idea, _you_ are the one who talked to me like that while not meaning a thing!”

A second passed. He didn’t say anything, what proved you well you were right. A painful feeling crossed your chest and you swallowed hardly.

He said in a high voice: “Well, you agreed too!”

“I never said I didn’t, Jon, yes we were two in this, but there are things you said you could have avoided to if you didn’t mean it!”

He scoffed, opening his mouth, closing it, then opening it again: “Well, hum, right, well you only said you had never heard one of our songs before!”

Your jaw dropped.

“And can I know how this is worse to say than what you did?”

“How come you have never listened to one of our songs?”

“Oh please Dave, it’s not the moment.”

“Right children.”

The police officer entered the room and let a file drop on his desk.

He sighed deeply, seeming awfully used to this. David said: “Sir, we know we’re not supposed to be drunk on the public highway, but we didn’t notice the thing about the road works…”

Jon scoffed, on the tone of pettiness: “Oh come on, it’s not important.”

The officer lifted his gaze and gauged him.

“Not important? I don’t think the workers would be glad to find steps and a bottle of vodka fossilized in concrete later in the morning.” He nodded. “So, you couldn’t be there.”

Jon huffed and crossed his arms on his chest: “Well, yet we were.”

David cocked an eyebrow and turned to him at his sudden unusual sharp tone, nearly making Richie slide off his shoulder.

“I get that, sir. But you weren’t allowed to be there.”

“Well, I think we’ve proven it’s not true.”

You heard David nudge at Jon to make him stop. The officer straightened, starting to lose patience.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe that if no one could be there, those workers should have put barriers?”

Jon had disproportionally shouted the end of the sentence and Richie woke up straight in his chair, blinking and clutching on his plastic goblet for dear life.

The officer squinted. “Okay. I was about to loosen it for you, you didn’t seem really problematic and when we arrest foreign people, it’s really _annoying,_ administratively speaking."

You swore you felt Jon settle in his chair, but he kept his bitchy attitude. The officer carried on: “But I suddenly lost the envy to be nice. What about a pretty night in a cell?”

You came at the end of your chair and raised hands in a calming way: “Listen, Sir, I’m so sorry, we shouldn’t have gotten there, it’s-”

But he wouldn’t hear a thing and two minutes later the four of you were in a cell with a passed-out man in a corner.

“Were you serious?”

Jon turned, knowing you were talking – more yelling – to him.

“Because of you we’re going to spend the whole night in this fucking cell!”

He crossed his arms on his chest and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. David’s gaze was alternating between both of you, and Richie didn’t have a clue of what was happening, but his stomach kept him unphased with the situation.

Out of rage, you went to sit on the very end of the bench, back at the others, arms crossed. You were fuming, and hated your life right now so much you didn’t stop repassing the moment where you had decided to come here in Vancouver in your head.

_Oh, if you had known._

Hours passed, where you observed the other guy sleeping, and heard David and Jon’s whispers; what made you even angrier at first. You had the feeling to be in a sandpit with the mean girls of the classroom talking shit about you in your back – because of course they were talking about you, what else were they speaking about?

At a moment, you acknowledged Richie was laying on the bench behind your back, his deep, low breathings of sleep somehow relaxing you a bit.

A familiar element in this mess.

Your eyelids had started to become heavy when a policeman arrived and cleared his throat. Your gaze was the first he met, and he said: “Someone paid your bail. You’re free, but I wouldn’t do this again if I were you.”

The door opened and Doc McGhee entered the cell, not surprisingly looking pissed and angry. Before he could say anything, you got up and planted yourself in front of him.

“Doc, I’m leaving.”

He cocked an eyebrow and opened his mouth, but you were quicker; “Yes, _I have money of my own for that_.”

He closed it, and you took it as a good sign.

“Can I leave?”

He said through gritted teeth, more looking at the three behind than you: “Yes, seen that _I_ paid the fees…”

You assumed he thought you were talking about leaving the station, but you didn’t mean that. Without a word, you turned around and left, just in time before your tired nerves gave up and let the tears fall down your cheeks.


	9. You Give Love a Bad Name

_An angel's smile is what you sell  
You promise me heaven, then put me through hell  
_ [ _Chains of love got a hold on me_ ](https://genius.com/Bon-jovi-you-give-love-a-bad-name-lyrics#note-20235824) _  
When passion's a prison, you can't break free_

“Please, y/n… Come with us.”

You were at your dining-room table, eating with your parents. It had been two days that Richie came back from Vancouver; two days that he was bashing the three of you with ‘how wonderful it was’, that ‘we really should go back there’, ‘I hope we will record in Canada again’ and plenty of other things, notably, about Canadian women – but this treatment was only for you.

When he came back you had risked asking him what had the others said to your precipitated departure. He had blinked: “Oh, hum, nothing… Well I supposed it’s because it was enough for you and you wanted to see mom and da- Hey y/n where are you going-”

They had stayed five days more than you; five days that Richie, of course, didn’t fail to describe you in every damn detail. The best he had found to make you a review of those days was in your room on your bed, with recordings of every song they made in the background. You couldn’t decide what was the worst; trying hard to keep a normal expression, hearing Jon’s voice, the love songs’ lyrics piercing your heart, the good memories they spent without you or Richie’s several ‘Jon was a bit weird sometimes I must say, like sad. Meh, I guess he too suffered from the girls out there!’

Since the morning, he had replaced his rambling about British-Columbia by the next programmed event; the photoshoot for the album. The least you could say is that Doc hadn’t lost time; it had to take place tomorrow, near a made-up beach. Richie didn’t know what the manager had at the back of his mind, and that excited him even more.

“Richie honey, your meat is going to be cold soon.”

Your mom had spoken in a soft voice, but something told you, even with all the pride she could feel for his son, that she was starting to get annoyed.

Richie moved back his gaze on his plate and pushed a fork full of food in his mouth, what gave you approximatively one minute of peaceful silence before he put his hand on your shoulder: “Please y/n, come! I’m sure we’ll all have fun, and the guys would be pleased to see you again. I know David and Jon miss you…”

You coughed, blaming it on a grain of pepper.

Jon? Missing you?

 _Funny_.

But right now, you just wanted to not hear him anymore, and made a vague movement of the hand, which apparently meant yes for him as he smiled widely, promising you a lot of fun.

And that’s how you ended up with Richie in the train the afternoon after, direction _Slippery When Wet_ ’s photoshoot.

Your stomach was weighing tons, feeling like you were heading to a speaking exam.

You don’t know if the road had been really quick or if time had lost its track, but in the battling of the eye, you were following Richie to the place of rendezvous.

The sun was still high in the blue sky, promising another very hot afternoon.

“Wow. That’s hot.”

But it wasn’t to the weather Richie was referring to right now; and you let your jaw drop in front of what you were seeing – not that it was very surprising.

You could recognize Doc’s small frame even if he was back at you, in a very deep conversation with a woman; she had long, black hair who highlighted the printings of the writings of the yellow t-shirt she was putting on right now on her bikini; t-shirt that was ripped here and there, showing more skin than hiding it.

She was already tall, but seemed giant with her high heels next to the manager.

You swiped the surroundings; five other women, all looking like they came out of a top model magazine were chatting together, casually throwing questioning looks to Doc, what made you think they didn’t really know what they were doing there.

Two cars looking like they were coming from the Barbie world too were parked, not really matching with the big black motorcycle Alec was leaning against, eyeing the girls with attention under Tico’s amused face.

Apparently, only them were there.

Doc turned: “Oh, Richie. Fine, you’re there.” He then eyed you, with the same expression he had taken at the airport a week ago; but the second later a smile spread on his face.

But not a genuine one; the one of a man who discovered an interest.

“Hey, Miss Sambora. Want to be a part of this?”

You frowned, not getting it.

“Y’know, we need ladies to pose for the cover, and one more…”

You had the very unpleasant feeling he was scanning your body behind his sunglasses. Richie scoffed: “Hey Doc, she came to be with us and see this, not-”

“No, I’m doing it.”

Richie turned his face to you and opened wide eyes; just as surprised as yourself from your answer.

Doc’s smile spread on his face and he bent to grab something from a bag at his feet. He shoved something in your arms; you recognized the same t-shirt he gave to the girl earlier. “You’re already in a pair of shorts, that’s perfect!”

He motioned you public toilets near the beach: “You can go change in those. Or behind if you don’t want to enter; I would understand you.”

You noticed it was the first time he talked to you kindly. Without looking at Richie, you turned and made a step before the manager jumped to catch you back and put a hand on your shoulder. “Hum, just a question… You are… More than 21, right?”

You rolled your eyes: “I’m 24.”

The smile went back on his face: “Perfect! Come back when you’re done.”

During the five minutes you took to reach for the cabins, change indeed behind and come back, you wondered why you had agreed. You were still deep in a mental judgment when you headed back towards them, and suddenly lifted your head when you recognized someone’s voice.

Jon and David had arrived, Doc talking to them. Another man was further, apparently the photographer.

From your new point of view, you saw buckets were disposed here and there, what made you be even more sceptical about the whole thing. Doc had apparently stopped explaining everything, as you saw two girls grabbing sponges from the buckets and eyeing the cars.

David and Jon climbed in one, Richie jumped on the second.

When Doc saw you, he said – still he new smile for you on: “y/n! Go in the car, behind your brother.”

It was impolite for David, but you didn’t glance at them you climbed in it.

You eyed the scene; Richie was sat right in front of you on the bumper, so you were kind of out of sight for him. Jon was with David in the other car, a girl now tucked between both of them, that you did your best to not look at, and Alec and Tico still near the motorcycle – well accompanied too. A girl climbed next to Richie, and another next to you when the photographer whispered something in Doc’s ear and this one shouted to start ‘acting’. The girl next to Richie instantly started to embrace him – which enchanted your brother, and you suddenly heard Jon and the girl he was with giggle in the car next to you.

Your heart tightened in your chest, but the girl next to you took you back to reality by tapping on your shoulder and handing you a sponge she took from a bucket.

Not really thinking, you stood tiptoe on the seat and bent on the windshield, a hand flat against it to take support. You extended your hand and pressed the sponge, wetting the glass, arching your back for the good measure. The girl next to you winked at you; “Well, this is sexy!” She mirrored you and you laughed. The photographer yelled: “Yes! Middle car, that’s what I want!”

Richie didn’t risk a glance behind and focused – not with difficulty – on the girl next to him. You played with the camera, quite encouraged by your neighbour when you heard a “Hey!”

You turned your face; the girl between Jon and David was hand on her hips, eyeing the blond: “ _I_ am next to you! So deign to look at me for this shoot, or change car!”

David caught her by the shoulders and told her something that made her laugh and forget about it, and Jon looked right in front of him, readjusting his sunglasses as Doc threw him a look.

You smirked; you liked this game, after all.

But your mouth soon opened in an ‘o’ shape when you felt cold water run down your back and front; you scoffed at the girl next to you, her sponge above your shoulder. You couldn’t repress a laugh; thinking about it, the cold water was kinda pleasant as the hot sun beat your skin, and you did the same to her.

In front of you, Richie had put his hand on a sponge with his full weight, which made him slip and fall on his back, the girl ‘falling’ on him too. You rolled your eyes and took another suggestive pose, gained by confidence, still supported by the one next to you.

“Hey, you!”

The photographer pointed at the other car; “You, with the sunglasses! Could you look at me and not what’s happening on your right?”

The woman next to you nudged at your side; “I don’t know if the girl in their car is boring or else, but the blondie there is more interested in what’s going on here than in his!”

You gulped, but didn’t dare to look at your side and just laughed quietly. A glint passed in her eyes and she yelled: “Hey! You! He- Yeah, come here!”

You opened wide eyes and looked at her with insistence, trying to make her understand in any way, but it was too late; you felt a weight climbing behind you.

“What’s your name?”

“Oh, hum J-Jon.”

She winked; “Well, welcome in the best ride, Jon. My name is Sarah, and this is…”

You hummed: “y/n.”

“y/n! So, let us entertain you.”

She grabbed him by the collar and dragged him at the front. He let himself fall sat on the driver’s headrest, managing to balance himself. Sarah passed her arm around his neck, soon congratulated by the photographer. Out of nowhere, she grabbed you and you don’t know how, pressed you at Jon’s side; both of you still not looking at each other directly, but your hand somehow flew on his shoulder and his hand on your waist, which made you take a breath.

“Smile, girls! Smile!”

You did the best you could to stay in the mood, distracting yourself with the sight of David and his blissed expression now that he had the girl for himself.

Your yellow t-shirt was damp, as your whole form and wind, even if it was rather hot, made you shiver.

“You’re cold?”

You needed some seconds to get Jon was actually talking to you, but still smiling widely to the camera. His hand imperceptibly pressed at your side and extended your time of answer.

“Oh, like you care?”

He hummed: “Hm, no, but you’re flush against me and… and… I’m cold too now.”

You repressed a guilty laugh.

“Well, join back David then. You didn’t seem that cold when you were out there.”

He didn’t say anything, but hadn’t had the time to nonetheless; the shoot was done, and everyone went back on the ground.

You didn’t know if they had anything else to do today, but Doc didn’t seem willing to say anything as he was in a heated conversation with the girl who was giggling with Richie a minute ago, who had apparently understood they would get paid for this.

“Hey guys, aren’t you hungry?”

You jumped, not noticing Richie had come next to you, apparently now focused on something else.

“There is a little restaurant further, we could go there?”

David pouted: “Hey, I wanted to go down the beach! It’s only 4pm.” He lurked at the girl he was in the car with, looking like she was kind of waiting for him.

“But I’m hungry!”

“You’re _always_ hungry!”

You clapped in your hands: “We could do both, no? Richie, you can buy something to eat on the beach, we’ll go to the restaurant later.”

Both David and your brother agreed, Jon still silent and David’s date following you.


	10. Social Disease

_Try to run but you're always behind it_  
So you play hide and seek like a blind kid  
Until you're caught - yeah you're caught

The four of you were sitting in the little restaurant Richie had spotted earlier.

You don’t know how, but Jon ended up sitting next to you; not that you were complaining after all, his position making it a lot easier to not look at him – but having him right there close to you tightened your guts in a way you tried to ignore the best you could.

Even if he had eaten this afternoon, Richie, in front of you, had just finished a plate that you would have taken two days to end, and the waitress had just cleared the table.

Your brother hummed: “Oh, I talked with Doc before you arrived this morning, guys. But he asked me something I didn’t get…”

David hummed, waiting for the rest and Jon grabbed his glass.

“He talked about money of the record company we spent, like a rather big amount, the first evening in Vancouver that we haven’t paid back yet- Ugh…”

He had been interrupted by a shower of beer Jon spitted on his whole front.

Your first reaction had been to open wide eyes that you tried to control so much they got full of tears and David suddenly got very interested in the patterns of the tablecloth.

“Sorry man, I… It went down the wrong way.”

Richie passed his napkin on his face and eyed his stained t-shirt. “That’s alright… So, I was saying. Do you remember that? I was so shitfaced, honestly.”

A smile had reappeared on his face and he seemed to not take it seriously, so you hoped the conversation would die there. He opened his mouth, and by fear it would be the same subject, you tried: “So, today you shot the cover of the album, that’s it? Or the inside of the sleeve?”

David nodded a bit to quickly to be innocent even though you had put two different questions, and you said: “Oh, nice.” You released a breath as Richie didn’t carry on on the bills and you added: “So, you with barely dressed women will be the cover of the album?”

You had said that shrugging, finding it rather funny in the end, but Jon didn’t get it that way: “And? You thought the cover was going to be a garbage bag with the title written on it?”

Both David and Richie raised eyebrows to him, not getting why he had reacted like that. You were taken aback, first by his tone, secondly because you thought he would have gotten you had talked about that to literally save his – and your – ass.

“Jon, it wasn’t criticism-”

“You think? I can feel it, it’s a reproach. You’re not being honest.”

There was an urge in his voice, like he didn’t want to say that and regretted each word as soon as they left his mouth, but it didn’t matter for you.

“Oh, yeah? I’m not being honest? Do you want to talk about honesty, Jon?”

David gulped and Richie was clueless, not getting this nebulous conversation looking full of resentment and the fact that both of you were literally looking in the opposite direction even though you were arguing.

This situation was unbearable, and you let out everything you were feeling since that morning in Vancouver by looking into Richie’s eyes and saying those words: “Jon and I got married.”

A silence fell on the little table, David’s eyes roaming the three of you, Jon gulping so loudly you heard it and Richie blinked several times in row, like he was trying to wake up from a dream.

Jon closed his eyes, ready to take a punch, but nothing happened. David was still anxiously looking at the three of you successively, not knowing if he should intervene.

After two silent seconds, Richie burst into laughs, making the tables around you throw you looks. Forgetting you were in a row, you exchanged a look with Jon; looking away right after.

You blinked; you weren’t expecting that.

He was holding his stomach, nearly bent in two above the table and clapped his thigh, like he had heard the best joke ever.

After two very long minutes where you exchanged awkward looks with David and sorry ones with the other clients, he stirred and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. You cleared your throat; “Richie. You have to believe us. We… We did get married in a small chapel in Vancouver.”

Thinking he wasn’t believing you and that you were pranking him was rather painful.

He said, still catching back his breath: “I believe you, I believe you! I leave both of you unattended for an evening and you get married in a damn chapel! No wonder what you would have done if we went to Vegas!”

He sighed, hand on his belly and finished his glass.

Your jaw clenched; you could nearly say you would have preferred him to scream out of anger than take it like that.

You said on a sharp tone, not believing yourself: “You mean… You’re not angry we got married?”

He sniffed: “Ugh, no. I mean, I’m sure it can be quickly arranged… I just think we shouldn’t tell mom and dad though.”

He had a smile of haze on his face, hand still on his glass, gaze alternating between the three of you. David was holding his breath, and you blinked.

After all…

That’s good, no?

Better that than a fight?

You finally released your breath, something like relief spreading in your chest.

But it would have been too good, wouldn’t it.

Apparently, Jon had felt a certain relief too. He said in a shrug: “Oh, right. It was certainly something that night, I will sure remember when the owner nearly burst in the room in the morning and forced us to run half-naked in the street…”

It took a second to Jon to acknowledge this excess of phlegm and he clamped his hand on his mouth, eyes widening. Richie’s eyes shot wide opened and his hand clenched around his glass, David hiding his lower face in his.

“What room?”

Ooh, you didn’t like the tone of his voice. The furthest you remembered it, it was around twenty years ago, when you told him you broke one of his toys.

Richie turned his face so quickly towards David even his hair full of hairspray moved. “You told me they were already at the apartment when you brought me back.”

David lowered his glass to meet his eyes, but kept his lips on it and didn’t say anything.

Richie’s eyes went on Jon, carefully avoiding you in the process; what pissed you off.

“So you spent the night… together?” The last word came out painfully. He repeated, not on the tone of a question anymore: “You spent the night together.”

A silence fell again, and you could have jumped on the occasion to deny.

But you didn’t.

At your side, Jon was still hand on his mouth and eyes wide open.

“Richie, look at me. Look at me for God’s sake!”

He finally planted his eyes in yours with anger, but you were too used to this to get affected. “Yes, we spent a night together. What are you going to do?”

“He hadn’t the right to touch you! Plus… You got married!”

You scoffed: “Two minutes ago you didn’t care!”

He crossed his arms on his chest and pouted, making you once again think about the six-year-old version of himself; but it wasn’t the time to laugh. “Well, now, I do!”

“Richie, you don’t decide for me. I do what I want!”

“Oh, so you were doing what you wanted that night? Tell me you weren’t drunk!”

You paused. At your sides, Jon’s hand had dropped and David had put his glass back on the table.

He carried on: “Tell me you don’t regret this!”

“I don’t!”

You had nearly shouted and everyone in the small restaurant stopped to talk. The ambient noise started again though as long seconds passed where Richie blinked, not believing his ears, David laid wide eyes on you too and Jon finally, after so many days, looked at you thoughtfully.

But your eyes were still planted into Richie’s and you didn’t see his expression.

“Maybe, deep inside me, I wanted it?”

All colours left your brother’s face and he said, merely opening his mouth: “You wanted to have sex with him?”

You rolled your eyes: “I meant the _wedding_ , Richie, for lord’s sake.” You nearly added _“But yes”_ for some reasons but decided against.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came for you, so he switched to Jon – who settled down in his chair: “And you? You’ve got nothing to say? She was drunk!”

Jon gasped: “Don’t imply that! It’s disgusting! Both of us wanted it!” He glanced at you. “You… Did?”

You met his eyes, and acknowledged it was the first time you really looked at him since that night. “Yes.”

Richie let out a long plead, and you looked back at him. “Oh my god Richie, stop being a drama queen!”

You knew he hated to be called like that, and he hissed: “I’m. not. a. drama. queen!”

He then took his empty glass and eyed it, probably imagining Jon’s head in it, and literally exploded it on the table. The sound of the glass breaking made, once again, people around you turn – but instead of throwing you pissed looks, they repressed gasps.

A piece of glass somehow landed on his jaw, marking it of a long cut. He squealed and clamped one of his hands on the table right on the shards of glass, what made him scream. You said: “Richie, for god’s sake, stop moving!”

But he led his full-of-glass hand on his cheek to move the piece – which just worsened everything. You rolled your eyes and David blinked, still not able to process the events as Jon let out in a cry: “Someone calls an ambulance!”

You got up: “No, the hospital is not far. David, let’s take your car.”

You looked for money as Jon went to grab Richie below the armpit, but this one hissed like a cat and battled his valid hand in the air like to repel a fly. He seemed to get up painfully and you rolled your eyes as you let two bills on the table: “Richie, it’s your hand and face that’s hurt, not your legs.”

He didn’t answer and dramatically let himself fall on David.


	11. ...Doesn't Have To Stay in Vancouver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read my fic and commented it, it means to world to me <3

You muttered underneath your breath: “Drama queen.”

As soon as you had come out of the bar, Richie had literally fainted when he saw his palm was seriously bleeding. Jon had come at his other side to drag him to David’s car, now able to help him without the fear of getting punched in the nose.

He had climbed with him at the back, you at the front with David. You had never been in his car before, and mentally swore yourself it would be the last time; he slalomed between cars with so much speed you were holding yourself wherever you could, casually closing your eyes as you passed very much too close to a car.

At the back, Jon was maintaining Richie straight the best he could, sometimes praising him to wake up; he even slapped him at a moment, making both you and David turn – what made you clamp your hand on the driver’s cheek to make him look back at the road.

Both extirpated him and dragged him inside the same way, Richie casually lifting his head half conscient and making a weak step before crashing back on his friends. You were the first to reach for the desk, and were taken in charge nearly directly.

A nurse removed the pieces of glass and put plasters on his cheek and bandages on his hand. She had said it wasn’t serious, but decided to put him perfusion due to his livid face.

You don’t know if he was still passed out or simply asleep, but he was eyes closed, in his hospital gown, tucked under the white sheets like a seriously injured person; what made you instantly roll your eyes and seriously assume he was, in fact, a drama queen.

You had hopped cross-legged on his bed at his feet and detached your eyes from his form. David was walking back and forth in the room and Jon was in front of you, laying against the wall. Your little adventure seemed to have reinstalled the awkwardness between you and both of you were carefully avoiding each other’s gazes.

“Guys, I’m going to grab coffees. Jon? y/n? Want one?”

Both of you nodded and David escaped the room, leaving you in silence, Richie’s deep breaths only filling the place.

“I hope he won’t keep a scar.” You puffed. “Well, if he does, I’m sure he will use it to flirt with women.”

You shrugged and turned your face to Jon; he was already looking at you. He passed his hand at the back of his neck and said: “Did you mean it?”

You frowned: “Hum… Yes. He always finds ways to attract women in his bed, I mean, he would have one arm only he would manage to-”

“No. I mean… Today. When you said deep inside you, you wanted this.”

_Oh._

That.

You blushed and watched your feet underneath your legs: “Well, you know… It’s… I totally understand you want to end this, it’s-”

“I never said that.”

You lifted your face and saw he had advanced towards you. He had nearly the same expression as earlier in the restaurant when he had let escape his words too quick.

You tried to not stutter: “Oh, I thought… I thought you didn’t want me, because, you didn’t really want to talk to me, and with the girls…”

“For earlier today, it was stupid. To be honest… Richie got the idea.”

He scratched his head in embarrassment and you said: “But he didn’t know…”

“Yes, but I told him I liked a girl, and… That I didn’t know if she wanted me.” He was playing with the fringes of his coat and supporting your gaze seemed very difficult. “So he advised me to make her jealous.”

You let out a breath.

“Well… It worked.”

You gave him a shy smile, and it seemed like air had left his lungs. “You know, back in Vancouver, when I said it wasn’t wise and that we shouldn’t have done that… It’s because I thought you didn’t mean anything of what you had said.”

He made a step again towards you and you had to straighten yourself and lift your head to look at him.

He said, not louder that in a breath: “Can I do something? To prove you I meant that with my whole heart.”

You nodded, maybe too quickly to be natural, and he cupped your cheeks. He approached, and gently put his lips against yours, then moved back his face. Your noses were barely touching, and your eyes were reading each other. He seemed to have found something to say as he opened his mouth, but you grabbed his head and closed the gap, kissing him again, deeper. His fingers grazed at your skin and he moaned at a moment; what made your body react in a not very suitable way to the hospital environment.

“Ugh! Disgusting.”

Both of you turned your heads to Richie, breaking away in a sucking noise that ripped another grimace from your brother.

He was still laying on his back, but had crossed his arms on his chest and had lifted his head, to be able to throw you lightning with his squinted eyes.

Jon let go of you and bit his lip, cheeks turning pink and you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“I wake up from a coma and what do I see? My best-friend kissing my little sister passionately. Perfect.”

You clacked your tongue: “Yeah, well, if you hadn’t fainted when you saw you were bleeding...”

He pouted and you added: “Plus, you’ll have to get used to this, Richie.”

You winked at Jon and this one turned bright red now, smiling shyly as Richie let out a long sigh, opening his mouth so wide he hissed as it hurt his wound.

You tapped his leg underneath the covers: “Do you remember anything since the restaurant by the way?”

He let his head fall back into the pillows and hummed: “I… Only the ride to the hospital. It was wild, uh? The guy drove madly and a nurse slapped me in the face to bring me back…”

You bit your lip: “Oh, we didn’t take an ambulance. David drove us here.”

Jon passed his hand in his hair: “And I was nervous. Sorry, bro…”

A second passed and you laughed, soon joined by Jon and, after three painful seconds, Richie. Your laughs lowered when David entered, three coffees in balance between his hands.

“Oh, hum, Rich, now that Dave’s here, I’ll call mom and dad. There’s certainly a phone down there.”

He hummed and David sat on a chair. You went down the bed and locked eyes with Jon: “Can you come with me?”

He nodded and Richie sat up straight: “Why?”

You rolled your eyes and didn’t say anything as you got out.

There was indeed a phone down the corridor, and you called home to get your mom and tell her you wouldn’t be there tonight. Once you were done, you let out a sigh. Jon asked: “What did she say?”

“Oh, nothing. You don’t want to know what Richie did during his teen years – nothing compared to that.”

He shrugged, and both looked at your feet, but you somehow took a breath and said: “Jon, I-”

“No, wait.”

You blinked.

“y/n, let me talk first, right?”

“Oh, hum sure.”

And then, out of nowhere and unexpectedly, he knelt.

He knelt, and took your hand. You instantly blushed.

“y/n. We married a day after meeting each other. We kissed for the first time during our wedding. We had our first fight at a police station.”

You chuckled, followed by him. “You forgot to precise my brother wants to kill you.”

He laughed: “Indeed, your brother wants to kill me.” His eyes studied your face, and he carried on: “And all of this – except maybe the fact that my best friend wants to kill me – makes me want to ask you something.”

You pinched your lips together and your fingers unintentionally tightened in his hand.

“We know each other for a week and a half, but I don’t need more to be sure about something.” He drew a breath and asked you, all words attached: “y/n-would-you-like-to-stay-married-to-me-forever?”

He even closed his eyes like the answer could potentially hurt him, and you shook his arm to make him look at you.

“Jon. Of course yes!”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

Both of you had nearly yelled under the surprise of the other’s words and a nurse busy further in the corridor turned to see what was going on.

He got up, a wide smile spreading on his face – smile that disappeared in the heated kiss when you jumped in his arms.

You were passionately kissing each other for the second time in ten minutes when a very well-known voice yelled from the other end of the corridor: “Y/N! JON! I SEE WHAT YOU’RE DOING!”

But it just made you tighten your embrace.

-

_New York, July 1992_

“I think _Keep the Faith_ could be the title of the album. I love the song so much, first, and then it summarizes well your current state of mind. Bon Jovi’s there, more than ever.”

“Well well, sister, do you know the job of manager would suit you?”

Your mouth stayed opened a second and you passed the tip of your tongue on your upper lip: “Richie. I _am_ a manager.”

You paused.

“Your manager, for the record. Since you fired Doc.”

Sitting in the couch of the office, he pointed at the desk further. “Then why aren’t you sitting behind this beautiful desk, on this very comfortable chair I offered my dear sister after she made one of the bands she manages win a gold record instead of on my best friend’s lap?”

Jon bit his lip to prevent himself from laughing.

“First of all, Richie, I didn’t make this band sell one million copies, _they_ did. And secondly, I sit on my _husband_ ’s lap if I want to.”

You passed your hand in Jon’s freshly cut hair as he kissed you on the cheek.

“Oh my god, stop it!”

“Richie for lord’s sake, we’ve been married for six years…”

“And you’re my sister for thirty!”

You rolled your eyes and got up to reach for your desk. You knew he was half-joking, but still.

“Alright, alright.”

Your brother got up, hands raised in a surrendering way. “I’m leaving you, now.” He joined you to kiss you on the cheek. “See you later, Miss Sambora.”

You couldn’t help yourself but chuckle and said, while he was crossing the room: “Maybe someday consider calling me by my actual surname?”

He shouted “Never!” shutting the door, and both Jon and you laughed. He got up to meet you when you hopped sat on your desk.

“So, Madam Bongiovi, what are the next plans?”

He put his hands on your thighs and you passed your arms around his neck.

“Planning when we’ll record the last songs of the album. You had no business writing that much!”

“Well, I had a lot of inspiration.”

He nuzzled his face in your neck and you giggled. He said, his voice muffled by your skin – what made you shiver: “I have an idea where to go, though.”

He lifted his face and you raised eyebrows expectantly.

“What about Vancouver?”

You grinned: “Only if we pass by a certain chapel called _RedCandle_.”

He laughed: “You think our manager will agree? Last time, it didn’t happen well…”

“Don’t know.”

You planted your eyes in his.

“Do you have good arguments?”

_Fin._


End file.
